The Pet Shop at Pennycombe Bay

by Sheila Norton

  ‘Let me come with you, then. I’ll drive you there. We can choose Doc together.’

  And so it was agreed. I could understand Jim’s anxiety about making the right choice, and I was quite surprised that Vera hadn’t given him a long list of requirements about her future companion: colour, size, temperament and so on. But no, she’d apparently insisted he should choose for her, and that he would know the right cat when he saw it. And in the event, she was proved right. As we were shown around the cat sanctuary, smiling with delight at all the cute kittens and fluffy felines, we both stopped dead outside the cage where a small ginger and white cat with one slightly wonky ear was regarding us solemnly.

  ‘Ah,’ I said. ‘He looks so sad!’

  But as I spoke, the cat got up, stretched, and walked slowly over to us, putting his head on one side as if considering whether we were worthy.

  ‘Hello,’ Jim said, crouching down to make eye contact, and the little cat gave one loud meow and turned his head against the wire of his enclosure as if to rub himself against Jim’s hand.

  ‘He’s purring!’ I said.

  ‘I think he’s chosen us,’ Jim said, laughing.

  And, thank goodness, Vera seemed delighted with him.

  ‘I knew you’d choose the right one,’ she told us happily, when everything was finalised and the little cat eventually demolished his first dish of food at his new home. ‘There, Doc, did you enjoy that? Come on, then, I’ll show you where Jim’s put your litter tray.’

  ‘She’s talking to him already,’ Jim whispered to me. ‘That’s a good sign.’

  ‘Yes. Before you know it, he’ll be talking back to her,’ I whispered back.

  Jim looked puzzled for a moment, and then just gave me a knowing smile, and we both laughed.

  Summer was slowly passing. One night halfway through August there was a tremendous thunderstorm, putting paid to the warm, settled weather and bringing in a spell of cooler, showery conditions. I rushed to and from work with my umbrella up, splashing through puddles, and took Prudence on shorter walks, avoiding muddy areas as much as possible. I felt sorry for the families that had booked the second half of the children’s school holidays for their annual seaside break. But then, to everyone’s surprise and pleasure, the August Bank Holiday Monday was a lovely hot sunny day. The beaches were once again packed with holidaymakers and day trippers making the most of it. Even little Stony Cove was busy, and after a quick glance at the crowds I kept Prudence on her lead and stayed on the cliff path for our walk. She was generally well behaved, but on the beach, she was used to being able to romp off on her own across the sand, and splash in and out of the sea, and that would be a bit antisocial when there were so many families with rugs spread out enjoying picnics, and toddlers paddling in the shallows.

  As we strolled along in the heat I contemplated the end of the summer holiday season. It was always a mixed blessing. For most people here in Pennycombe Bay, tourism was their livelihood, with July and August bringing in the most work, of course, and the largest chunk of their annual income. But as long as the season had gone well, there was something of a sense of relief when things began to quieten down in the autumn. I remembered all too well how that had felt when I was working at the hotel. The Grand was pretty busy all year round, with conferences and functions as well as family holidays, but the summer months were completely manic, and everyone’s tempers became frayed, not least that of my boss, our very temperamental Italian head chef, Marco. So we all breathed a sigh of relief once the children went back to school and life calmed down slightly.

  ‘I don’t miss that job one little bit,’ I said to Prudence, surprising myself by the sudden realisation of how true that was. ‘I’d rather work in the pet shop for the rest of my life than go back to that place.’

  You don’t know how lucky you are. I’d love to work in a pet shop.

  ‘Yes, I’m sure you would! You’d invite all your friends round, eat all the dog biscuits and play with the toys!’

  Obviously! That’s what they’re for, isn’t it? Anyway, why did you hate the hotel so much?

  ‘I didn’t, not at the time. I enjoyed it then, actually.’

  I sighed. What was I saying? If Prudence had really been able to speak to me, she would have told me I was talking rubbish. It had never been the actual work that I’d enjoyed, although I used to pretend I did, because a career in catering was what I’d always assumed I wanted. I got caught up in Dad’s enthusiasm and went along with it. No, it was the company I enjoyed. Working with Liz had been such fun. She and I used to laugh and joke together as we worked, sometimes even bursting into song, much to the irritation of grumpy Marco. She brought something out in me, changed me from timid, shy little Jess who wouldn’t say boo to a goose, into someone with a bit of spark, someone who could stand up for herself. Not that it did me any good, in the end.

  ‘And what was the point of that friendship, after all, if she was just going to turn against me when I was in trouble?’ I said out loud now to Prudence, the hurt that was never far from my mind threatening to overwhelm me again. ‘It’s like … she couldn’t bear to associate with me after I got the sack. Even though she knew it was completely unfair!’

  Prudence looked up at me.

  Well, life IS unfair. What about me? I thought I’d be running on the beach this morning, but am I complaining?

  ‘You’re right, Pru. I shouldn’t have started moaning about the hotel, all over again, should I? It’s a lovely sunny day, and summer will soon be over. Let’s try and be happy.’

  We turned around at the top of Devil’s Peak and started to walk back. The tide was coming in now, and I guessed the beach café would soon be getting busy with snacks and lunches for people who were being temporarily forced off the beach until the tide went out again. I was thirsty, and I guessed Prudence would be grateful for a bowl of water too.

  ‘Let’s stop for a drink now, before they get rushed off their feet,’ I said, and she wagged her tail in agreement.

  I was pleased to see Kevin smiling as he served me.

  ‘Are you feeling happier now?’ I asked quietly.

  ‘Absolutely, sweetie. Perfectly tickety-boo.’

  There was something about his tone, though, that didn’t quite match his smile. I gave him a questioning look, and he shrugged.

  ‘Well, I’ve made up my mind to take a different view of things, Jess. My old mum always used to say we make our own happiness. So I’m not going to hang around forever for him—’ He motioned towards the kitchen, where I could hear Dan banging things around ‘—to make up his mind. I’m putting myself first, for once.’

  ‘You’re not really going to leave him?’

  ‘I’m going to take a break from him.’ He gave me another smile. ‘Don’t look so worried. It’ll do us both good, and maybe it’ll be the wake-up call he needs.’ He put my drink on the counter. ‘I’m waiting till after the carnival, though. Then if nothing’s changed, I’ll tell him I’m going to give him some space for a while.’

  ‘Well, I hope that brings him to his senses.’

  ‘Me too. I think I deserve better than being kept on a string like this, while he keeps saying he’s not sure. I’d rather be single again, than carry on feeling like, after all this time, he’s still not sure if I’m good enough for him.’

  In a way, I was pleased Kevin was sounding more positive. It had been horrible before, to hear him sounding so fed up and upset with Dan. I admired him for his new upbeat way of looking at the situation, even if it was mainly bravado. I really hoped that if he did go off for a break, Dan would miss him so much he’d want him back straight away and give him the Happy Ever After he deserved.

  But what did I, of all people, know about relationships? Once again, I wondered whether they were really worth all the hassle!

  ‘What are you doing for the carnival?’ I asked, to change the subject.

  ‘Oh, the usual, you know. Teacups, cakes and stuff. Everyone seems to like it. They’ve
come to expect it now.’

  Kevin and Dan were on the Pennycombe Bay events committee, which organised the annual Pennycombe Bay carnival, among other things. When I first came to live here, the carnival used to be held in June, but because the weather was often disappointing, it had now been moved to the first Saturday of September, which worked well as it was the end of the school holidays and marked the end of the high season for tourism. Pennycombe Bay people were in the right frame of mind for letting their hair down and celebrating. We all enjoyed the carnival, and the beach café’s float had always been one of the best, decorated with huge teacups and saucers, cardboard cakes and sandwiches and giant ice-cream cones. People loved it. I just hoped that this year wouldn’t be the last time Kevin and Dan worked together on the project.

  ‘I’m looking forward to it,’ Kevin said with the same tone of determined optimism. ‘I’m not going to let this situation ruin my life, Jess. What doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger.’

  ‘Good for you, Kevin,’ I said, wishing there was more I could say.

  I took my Diet Coke and went to sit at a table overlooking the sea, gazing out at the little boats in the distance. I was glad Kevin felt we were close enough friends that he could confide in me. But being a confidante was a fairly new thing for me, and my own track record with relationships was so dismal, I felt pretty inadequate. Only one of my few short relationships with men in the past had been serious at all – and sadly, I’d soon realised that it hadn’t been serious to him, just to me. Andy was a waiter at the restaurant I’d worked at, back in Exeter. He was very lively and outgoing, so I hadn’t had to worry too much about making conversation and he’d hardly seemed to notice my shyness. He used to flirt with me and compliment me all the time at work, so that I’d stupidly imagined myself in love with him before we even started dating. But after only a handful of dates he cheerfully abandoned me in favour of a pretty, giggly girl who was a regular customer at the restaurant. It had been a bitter and humiliating experience, leaving me loath to trust my own feelings where men were concerned.

  So who was I to advise Kevin? I just hoped he really was feeling as strong and resolute as he’d implied, and wasn’t just putting on an act for my sake. Or for Dan’s.

  CHAPTER 12

  As I sat there sipping my drink, completely lost in my thoughts, I was startled by someone suddenly pulling out the chair opposite me.

  ‘Can I sit here?’

  I looked up to find Nick smiling down at me. Buddy and Prudence were already straining on their leads, panting with excitement at the sight of each other.

  ‘I saw you come down here from the cliff path,’ he said. ‘We were heading up that way ourselves – too crowded on the beach, isn’t it?’

  I was trying to take some deep breaths to steady the fluttery feeling in my stomach. I didn’t know if I was glad to see him or not, but I did know it was unsettling.

  ‘Haven’t seen you around for a while,’ he went on, still grinning at me.

  ‘No. Well, you don’t come round any more, do you,’ I said pointedly.

  ‘I can’t really, can I? Best to keep my distance for a while.’ He gave a little laugh now, and at this, my irritation with him flared up and overcame whatever else I’d been feeling.

  ‘Well, if you’re not going to see Ruth any more, you might at least be upfront and tell her,’ I snapped. ‘You’ve just left her in the lurch, she doesn’t know what’s going on, she keeps trying to call you and she’s in a right state.’

  ‘I have told her.’

  ‘Oh.’ Wrong-footed now, I looked down and took a gulp of my Coke. ‘She said—’

  ‘I’ve told her several times, Jess, but I think she’s only just beginning to accept that I meant it. Hopefully she might stop calling and texting me now.’

  ‘She’s been really unhappy, Nick. And she seems to think it’s my fault, which is ridiculous, but—’

  ‘Well, I haven’t told her about it, if that’s what you’re worried about,’ he said with a shrug.

  ‘Told her about what?’

  ‘The fact that I fancy you. That I want to go out with you.’

  ‘Stop it!’ I said, my face immediately flaring with heat. ‘That’s not going to happen! And if you ever did say anything like that to her, she’d definitely throw me out of the house.’

  ‘Can’t be much fun anyway, can it, living with her? The way she talks to you, and the boozing.’

  ‘She’s not like it all the time,’ I said, remembering our evening out at the fish restaurant. ‘And anyway, I want her to get help. She never used to be moody and difficult. She was always such a lovely person. I wish you’d give her another chance. If I can get her to go to AA—’

  ‘Jess, you’re wasting your time. She has to acknowledge that she has a problem first, and she won’t. Seriously, you’d be better off out of there. She’ll drag you down.’

  ‘She’s my cousin,’ I said firmly. I wasn’t going to tell Nick about the incident where she’d passed out on the sofa, but thinking about it now, I added quietly, ‘She needs me, whether she realises it or not. And anyway, where else am I supposed to live?’

  ‘I’ve got a plenty of room in my flat,’ he said, with a suggestive wink, and I blushed horribly again.

  ‘If you keep on like this, I’m going,’ I warned him. I sipped some more of my Coke. ‘I was going to tell you about Pets As Therapy. Prudence and I have joined. We’re visiting the children’s ward at the hospital.’

  His eyes widened with surprise.

  ‘Oh, good for you! I thought you didn’t have any spare time?’

  ‘I’ve … er … managed to free up an hour or so.’

  ‘And are you enjoying it? Is Prudence?’

  ‘I’ve only been once,’ I admitted. ‘But yes, we both did enjoy it. I’m really glad I decided to do it.’

  ‘So now we have even more in common,’ he said, the cheeky grin back on his face. ‘Seriously, Jess, you know I’m right. You need to stop fighting it!’

  ‘Right.’ I finished my drink and got to my feet. ‘I’m going. It was nice to see you, Nick, and I’d like us to be friends, especially now we’re both involved in Pets As Therapy. But if you think I’m going to hurt my cousin, even more than she’s hurt already, you’re out of your mind. Ruth and I go back too far.’

  ‘I admire your loyalty, as I’ve said before,’ he said. ‘But I still hope you’ll change your mind. See you again soon, maybe?’

  I walked away with my nose in the air and as much dignity as possible while tugging an unwilling dog behind me – upset at being taken away from her doggy boyfriend. I was cross with Nick. It wasn’t right for him to be flirting with me so soon after dumping Ruth, even if I did sympathise with his reasons for finding her difficult.

  Despite all that, I somehow found myself grinning as I walked home. And singing to myself as I made lunch. And getting those fluttery feelings again, as I sat out in the garden enjoying the afternoon sunshine during the rest of that Bank Holiday. Did he really like me? Could it be possible? Did someone, finally, see beyond my short, dumpy physique, my curly mop of hair and forever-blushing cheeks? What on earth did he see in me? Well, I knew nothing could come of it, anyway. But that didn’t stop me feeling a little bit pleased … and yes, I had to admit it: a bit flattered too.

  But I knew I shouldn’t be thinking like that, and it was a good thing that we were busy in the shop the next day, after the Bank Holiday, so that I didn’t have too much time for daydreaming. Instead I looked forward to my second visit to Seashell Ward. It was the following day, and it turned out to be just as rewarding and successful as the first visit. Prudence genuinely seemed to enjoy meeting the kids. It seemed it was true that children and pets have a natural affinity. Although she was normally a good-natured and well-behaved doggy anyway, Pru tended, like most spaniels, to be a bit lively and excitable at times. But as soon as we entered the hospital, she gave me a look that seemed to be saying: OK, I’m on my best behaviour now, and her
gentleness with the children made me love her more than ever, if that were possible.

  If I was honest, I’d never had very much to do with children in the past. Before I moved down to Pennycombe Bay, a few of the girls I’d known from school and college in Exeter were starting to have babies, but their talk of breastfeeding, nappies and colic had sounded like a foreign language to me and I felt slightly intimidated by it all. These days, the only children I met tended to be those who came into the pet shop or the holidaymakers’ kids I saw playing on the beach. An alien species of screaming, overexcited little creatures with buckets, spades and ice creams, who I mostly tried to avoid.

  These kids in hospital were, of course, quite different. Even those who were well enough to run around the ward being mischievous were prone to sudden changes of mood, collapsing in pain or exhaustion, or bursting into tears. I talked to Cheryl about it at the nursing station after Prudence and I had finished our visit.

  ‘Well, you know how it is yourself,’ she said, although to be honest, I didn’t. ‘Even if you’re in hospital for something quite minor, it’s strange and disorienting. Even if their parents are here on the ward with them, children can feel completely overwhelmed by things, however much we try to normalise the situation for them with toys, computer games, TV and so on. It’s not home, and it feels mildly threatening, in a way they can’t quite understand.’

  ‘Yes, I get that.’ I looked back at the children, some of them still watching us from their beds or waving to Prudence from the tables where they were drawing or playing with the toys. ‘It’s lovely to think that meeting Prudence, talking to her and stroking her might help to calm them.’

  ‘Oh, it really does,’ she said, with a smile. ‘They talked about her for ages after your last visit. And you saw how their little faces lit up when you came in today. Even the new patients were looking forward to it, because the others had been telling them about it.’